


The Roast of Napoleon Solo Affair

by edna_blackadder



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-21
Updated: 2009-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edna_blackadder/pseuds/edna_blackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon is roasted for charity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roast of Napoleon Solo Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sarcasticsra for the beta.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Waverly genially. “Thank you all for coming. I have to admit that this turnout has far exceeded my own expectations, particularly among our female staff.”

It had been Illya’s idea, the little bastard. Oh, Section Seven had come up with this very well-publicized charity aid program on its own, but Napoleon knew exactly who had suggested a roast of the Chief Enforcement Agent as a means of gathering internal contributions.

“I’ve known Mr. Solo for many years, and a finer Enforcement agent there never was. Certainly none have gone through so many fine suits. If Mr. Solo’s very expendable suits were any finer, we would be holding this roast at a public library.”

Illya snickered, but Napoleon managed to chuckle along with everyone else. He’d heard that one before, and he had to admit there was some truth in it, though it wasn’t exactly his fault that he was routinely shot at.

“The best things in life do not come cheap. In addition to having run through so many suits, Mr. Solo has also cost us a fortune in fine wine and restaurant checks. Success in the field requires a certain amount of nerve, and one need only look at some of Mr. Solo’s expense reimbursement forms to know that he has more nerve than anyone else in either UNCLE or THRUSH.”

Napoleon smiled and nodded as everyone laughed, more or less willing to admit that there was at least a grain of truth in that as well. Illya grinned evilly next to him, and Napoleon resisted the urge to “accidentally” spill his partner’s wine.

“As many of you are well-aware, Mr. Solo will likely join Section One eventually. I can only hope you all have some other marketable skills.”

Napoleon groaned as Illya chortled, and the room broke into applause. Mr. Waverly sat down, and Lisa stood up, grinning widely. “Working with Mr. Waverly often means reading reports so that he doesn’t have to. I’ve read many of our esteemed Section Two agents’ exploits, and they’ve truly changed the way I think. Mr. Solo’s reports especially have convinced me that Lysistrata had the right idea.”

Those who got the reference cheered. Unfortunately, they included Illya. Lisa resumed her seat, and April stood up. “We all know how much Napoleon appreciates the finer things in life, but like any good agent, he is dedicated and can do without if duty demands. If there are no expensive suits to be had, he can really pull off a pair of tights.”

Napoleon groaned, and felt himself flush a little when many female and some male eyebrows raised. He had enjoyed working with April, but he preferred to forget that part.

April was succeeded by Heather McNabb. Judging by the excited whispers among the Communications girls, she was speaking for all of them. Napoleon suppressed a shudder.

“It’s a well-known fact that Napoleon is fond of the ladies,” Heather began, “kind of like how a fish is fond of water. But he does appreciate the work we do. In fact, sometimes he’s so moved he can’t seem to look us in the face.” She paused to allow for the gales of laughter, then continued. “Seriously, though, Napoleon Solo knows how to treat a woman well. He knows just what to say and he’s said it many times. Many of us can recite it by heart.”

Illya laughed particularly hard, and Napoleon grimaced, remembering how his partner had once ruined a seduction by doing just that. Heather chuckled a bit herself, then added, “And we’re not the only ones. Charm is very useful in the field, after all. So useful, apparently, that the entirety of our Mr. Solo’s routine can be read in recently acquired top-secret THRUSH documents.”

The entire room laughed uncontrollably for an uncomfortably long moment, Illya loudest of all. Napoleon nodded along, fervently hoping this wasn’t true.

“Of course, Napoleon wouldn’t be Chief Enforcement Agent if he didn’t have the finest record in Section Two. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re looking at a man who has truly slept his way to success.”

Even Napoleon laughed at that, and Heather sat down, looking very proud of herself. Then John Matthews, who had recently transferred from Section Two Miami, stood up. Napoleon sipped his wine warily. Mr. Waverly was his direct superior, and Lisa, April, and Heather all knew him well enough, but he and Matthews had never exchanged much more than cursory greetings. He rarely even saw the man, except when he was turning in paperwork.

“When I put in my application to New York HQ, a lot of people told me that they’d give an arm or leg, or maybe both, to work for Napoleon Solo. Solo has got to be one of the most widely respected CEAs in all of UNCLE, but now that I’ve been here a few months I’ve got to confess myself a little confused as to why.”

Matthews paused, and some people offered hesitant, polite chuckles, apparently thinking he was finished and possibly confused as to what constituted a punchline. Napoleon could tell he wasn’t, and he had a feeling he might not like where this was going.

“In this job, I think it’s important to learn to judge others by the company they keep. Solo’s company seems to consist of THRUSH agents, loose women, and most ubiquitously, a Communist straight out of Leonid Brezhnev’s left side pocket.”

When it became apparent to Matthews that no one was laughing, he sat down. For a moment everyone simply sat in stunned silence. Napoleon’s fingers closed around his wine glass in white-knuckle grip as he looked around. April and Mark looked scandalized, and Mr. Waverly’s face had hardened into its gravest expression, but none of them compared to Illya, whose eyes flashed with rage and who sat as stiffly as humanly possible, more like an interrogation subject than a dinner guest.

Not trusting himself to respond in anything resembling a civilized manner, Napoleon scanned the room for someone, anyone, who might be able to defuse the tension. His eyes quickly caught a worried-looking George Dennel’s. “Say something,” he mouthed. When George hesitated, Napoleon impatiently resorted to a very obvious hand gesture. George nodded and stood up nervously.

“Napoleon has been my friend for many years,” George started. Napoleon braced himself, fairly certain he knew what was coming. “Now, we’ve all had a lot of fun with his way with the ladies tonight, but you’ve got to admit, the man works at it. He works really hard at it. You would almost think he’s overcompensating, if you know what I mean.”

If anyone else had said that, it might have worried him, but George had been saying it for years, usually after a woman chose Napoleon over him, without ever believing it in the slightest. He turned to Illya, hoping against hope that he might have relaxed just a little. Any other day Illya would have appreciated such a joke, however predictable, but he was still wound up tight as a drum and had only forced out a weak, unamused bark. Fortunately April and Mark enthusiastically grasped George’s straw, both affording the joke far more appreciation than it actually warranted. April pretended to choke on her wine, and Mark made a show of grabbing the table to avoid falling out of his chair. George sat down, and Mandy Stevenson stood up.

“Strange as it seems, it is actually possible for a woman to be just friends with Napoleon,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I have managed to accomplish this feat, and I can say that Napoleon is a very good friend, and he’s very creative too. After he’s flagrantly lied to you and gotten you captured by THRUSH, he’ll always manage to save your life. A true gentleman, really.”

That comment might have stung if she hadn’t been beaming the entire time. And if she hadn’t since attended Survival School and become a Section Three agent. Illya laughed in spite of himself, and Napoleon flashed Mandy a grateful smile. She smiled back as she sat down, and Mark jumped in next.

“I’ve heard it said many times that there’s no one else out there quite like Napoleon. I think I can speak for every man in this room when I say thank God for that.” After a raucous response, Mark added, “Of course, as I work with April I’m largely spared that problem. Surely Illya can tell us more?”

All eyes turned to Illya. Napoleon knew his partner had had every intention of participating, but he looked hesitant now. Mr. Waverly made up his mind a second later. “Yes, Mr. Kuryakin, regale us with your tales.”

Illya nodded and slowly got to his feet. “Napoleon is a thoroughly dependable partner. He can depended upon to get one or both of us captured, but to his credit, and to my everlasting bewilderment, he can also be depended upon to escape with a new phone number in his pocket.”

Napoleon raised an eyebrow. Coming from Illya, that was uncomfortably tame.

“In all seriousness,” Illya continued, “Napoleon is a dedicated agent. If I am in peril, sometimes he will even wait to commence his celebrations until after I’ve been freed.”

That was better, but still not nearly up to Illya’s usual standard, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at all. The crowd offered a few scattered chuckles, understandably underwhelmed. Illya’s caustic wit was as well-known as Napoleon’s womanizing.

“Most importantly, Napoleon is a loyal friend. If I am incapacitated, he is more than happy to take charge of my affairs. Particularly if they are wearing skirts.”

Napoleon laughed, but he was one of few who did. Barely an hour ago he’d been ready to confine Illya to his desk for a month for coming up with this, but now he was worried, and by the looks of it he wasn’t the only one. After a pause, Mr. Waverly asked, “Anything else, Mr. Kuryakin?”

Illya shook his head. “Time is running short, I think.”

“Very well. Mr. Solo, would you like to respond to any of this?”

“Yes, sir,” Napoleon replied as he stood up. “First of all I would like to clarify that Illya is just as capable of getting either or both of us captured as I am, and also that he is without a doubt the worst Communist in the entire world. I’ve seen his private library and at least half of it has been banned somewhere. Also, you’ve all had so much fun with my, ah, attentiveness to the fairer sex that you’ve completely overlooked something else, which I feel I would be remiss in allowing to go unmentioned. I would think at least my colleagues in Section Two would have remembered it.”

Napoleon paused for effect, allowing himself to briefly but shamelessly enjoy the sudden trepidation in some of their eyes. “They say power corrupts, and as Number One Section Two I’m not entirely without it.” He turned to look directly at Matthews, then continued, “I really do my best not to practice politics. However, if one of my Section Two agents were to publicly undermine the mission and values of UNCLE, he might just find himself on a plane bound for Antarctica. Many a THRUSH agent can attest that I am not immune to overreaction.”

Matthews’ expression was mostly still one of contempt, but Napoleon could see that he had delivered the line just suggestively enough to pierce his armor. Satisfied, he relaxed, turned away from Matthews and smiled warmly. “Just one last thing, for you ladies. I haven’t heard you complaining.” Then, to Mr. Waverly: “That’s all, sir.”

“Very well. Thanks once more to all of you for contributing to a worthy program and a delightful evening. You’re dismissed.”

As everyone began to file out, Napoleon grabbed Illya’s arm. “Share a cab with me.” Illya nodded, and when they reached the street he dutifully hailed one. Once they were settled inside, Napoleon came straight to the point. “You could have done much better than that.”

“I did have a longer, rather more brutal version prepared,” Illya admitted, “but between what Matthews said and what I knew you would have to say...it didn’t feel right.”

Napoleon nodded. “The best-laid plans of mice and men—”

“—often go awry,” Illya finished, but he was shaking his head. “But it wasn’t even a good plan. It was idiotic in the extreme. I should have known it would blow up in my face.”

“Should have known?” Napoleon asked sharply. “Do you mean to say that wasn’t the first such comment Matthews has made about you?”

Illya nodded guiltily. “He has hated me since the moment we met, entirely because of my nationality.”

Napoleon shook his head. “You should have told me.”

“He is a run-of-the-mill ignoramus, Napoleon, nothing more. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“All the same, you should have told me. If only because I really can pull the necessary strings to have him sent to Antarctica.”

Illya gaped. “You weren’t serious about that?”

Napoleon grinned. “Not at the moment, no, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Illya smiled back. “I suppose not.”


End file.
